In Big Houses In Which Things Are

The Irish Landowner, Partly From Laziness But Also From An Indifferent Delicacy, Does Not Interfere In The Lives Of The People Round. Sport And Death Are The Two Great Socializing Factors In Ireland, But These Cannot Operate The Whole Time: On The Whole, The Landowner Leaves His Tenants And Work-people To Make Their Own Mistakes, While He Makes His.

Grown-up People Seem To Be Busy By Clockwork... They Run Their Unswerving Course From Object To Object, Directed By Some Mysterious Inner Needle That Points All The Time To What They Must Do Next. You Can Only Marvel At Such Misuse Of Time.

Characters Should On The Whole, Be Under Rather Than Over Articulate. What They Intend To Say Should Be More Evident, More Striking (because Of Its Greater Inner Importance To The Plot) Than What They Arrive At Saying.

Habit, Of Which Passion Must Be Wary, May All The Same Be The Sweetest Part Of Love.

Love Of Privacy - Perhaps Because Of The Increasing Exactions Of Society - Has Become In Many People Almost Pathological.